Sorrow and Hope
This was written 6/29/15, the day after Jason resigned from RHC.
Jason resigned. Yep, it hurts to even type it. It hurts because we have loved so much at Redemption Hill Church. We are invested. All of us. Every little bit of us. My heart is raw and my sorrow is deep. Some moments my heart is so heavy within me that the mundane feels impossible. Ordering pizza, finding bottles, shampooing hair feels so strange with my heart so heavy. Then, one of my children smiles or I turn to do something and it is already finished by Jason. In those moments I realize, this heart hanging outside of my body feeling is good. Jason's smile has changed. It creeps into the corners of his eyes like before. My Jason made a wise, hard choice. He sent me a link recently to a powerful article written by Ray Ortlund that has come back to my heart and mind so much recently. The punch line is that ministry isn't everything, Jesus is. In this hard of leaving our church, our home, our people, I am clinging to Christ and believing His plan is full of grace and mercy. Jason is sleeping. He wakes easier. He smiles and laughs more. He twitches less. The beauty though is that he looks out at Redemption Hill with such great longing for their good and believes that God will provide. He doesn't find joy in the leaving but peace and rest in the decision. I see shalom in my Jason again. His sharing of the load in our home is changing. It feels different and sweet. I have lived free of bitterness with Jason for years now but his capacity for living and serving in our home was more limited with the intense demands of church planting. By the grace of God, there has been acceptance and passion for the mission of God on both of our parts to run fast and hard in the ways that God has called us. Me in the home. Him, both in our home and outside of it. My load has been heavy and my work hard. It feels foreign to see him carry more. It feels sweet. I truly cannot imagine doing life without my Redemption Hill family because, quite frankly, we planned to raise our kids here, grow old here, and see this thing grow deeper roots. We have spent ourselves, praying for our people, planning, dreaming, strategizing how to best love and feed the people of Redemption Hill. We have also been loved and served here. In those five years, I have given birth to three children. I have been so richly blessed to have a front row seat to the lives of the people of Redemption Hill, the suffering and sorrow, the joy and rejoicing. It is an incredible gift from God. It is an eye opening gift to be this blessed to seek Jesus on the behalf of others. My hands are full. My heart is full. Ultimately, all of it has been given by the hand of God. It cannot remain in my closed hand because it is a gift. Every moment. Every hard, gut wrenching moment that I have come to the end of myself and found Jesus there. Every moment so full of joy and pleasure at the goodness of God. Every shared tear. Every cup of coffee shared. Every single bit was given by God. I am sad but I have hope. Hope because Jesus is the author of my story and every single person at Redemption Hill Church. He will make a way. It will be beautiful. It may be hard and there will probably be a lot more twists in the plot than I ever imagined, but the truth is I want Him more than I want to rail against my pain and sorrow. My heart is His and He will sustain me.
Jason resigned. Yep, it hurts to even type it. It hurts because we have loved so much at Redemption Hill Church. We are invested. All of us. Every little bit of us. My heart is raw and my sorrow is deep. Some moments my heart is so heavy within me that the mundane feels impossible. Ordering pizza, finding bottles, shampooing hair feels so strange with my heart so heavy. Then, one of my children smiles or I turn to do something and it is already finished by Jason. In those moments I realize, this heart hanging outside of my body feeling is good. Jason's smile has changed. It creeps into the corners of his eyes like before. My Jason made a wise, hard choice. He sent me a link recently to a powerful article written by Ray Ortlund that has come back to my heart and mind so much recently. The punch line is that ministry isn't everything, Jesus is. In this hard of leaving our church, our home, our people, I am clinging to Christ and believing His plan is full of grace and mercy. Jason is sleeping. He wakes easier. He smiles and laughs more. He twitches less. The beauty though is that he looks out at Redemption Hill with such great longing for their good and believes that God will provide. He doesn't find joy in the leaving but peace and rest in the decision. I see shalom in my Jason again. His sharing of the load in our home is changing. It feels different and sweet. I have lived free of bitterness with Jason for years now but his capacity for living and serving in our home was more limited with the intense demands of church planting. By the grace of God, there has been acceptance and passion for the mission of God on both of our parts to run fast and hard in the ways that God has called us. Me in the home. Him, both in our home and outside of it. My load has been heavy and my work hard. It feels foreign to see him carry more. It feels sweet. I truly cannot imagine doing life without my Redemption Hill family because, quite frankly, we planned to raise our kids here, grow old here, and see this thing grow deeper roots. We have spent ourselves, praying for our people, planning, dreaming, strategizing how to best love and feed the people of Redemption Hill. We have also been loved and served here. In those five years, I have given birth to three children. I have been so richly blessed to have a front row seat to the lives of the people of Redemption Hill, the suffering and sorrow, the joy and rejoicing. It is an incredible gift from God. It is an eye opening gift to be this blessed to seek Jesus on the behalf of others. My hands are full. My heart is full. Ultimately, all of it has been given by the hand of God. It cannot remain in my closed hand because it is a gift. Every moment. Every hard, gut wrenching moment that I have come to the end of myself and found Jesus there. Every moment so full of joy and pleasure at the goodness of God. Every shared tear. Every cup of coffee shared. Every single bit was given by God. I am sad but I have hope. Hope because Jesus is the author of my story and every single person at Redemption Hill Church. He will make a way. It will be beautiful. It may be hard and there will probably be a lot more twists in the plot than I ever imagined, but the truth is I want Him more than I want to rail against my pain and sorrow. My heart is His and He will sustain me.
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